Decision: Return to Ivalice
by rafaell
Summary: Fran and Ashe make a decision. They cross the divide, finding floating continents and more. BalthierAshe, BaschAshe, VosslerAshe, FranBalthier, PeneloVaan.
1. Prologue & the beginning

**Prologue**

**I. FRAN**

Fran took a few steps away from the tent; her long heels touching gravel took her further away as if on floating wings. She walked silently, was always cautious of every step like moonbeams dancing on ice. Adept at mechanics and hume-created tools despite being raised in a wooden glen full of women and mist, Fran was an exemplar to young Vieras.

There was one thing she would never forget: the endless years that seem to toil forever in front of her. Her thin white brows drew together in the middle, creating an unpleasant state of confusion on her pixie-ish face: Fran knew she was from a race that got older, and worry creased her doleful expression on the notion of attaching herself to a hume; she just knew that with him, the skies the limit: adventure would be endless. The sisters in the wood would never know how bittersweet this unseemly strange future held; many of them lived past a hundred together so how would they acquire that information?

When Fran approaches near the wood, she can't hear the whispers in her ears, which would have been a mother's warning or a gentle urging. Now it's dead.

She whispered aloud: "I fear the wood hates me so." A lone tear followed a path to the one that had left moments ago, and she wasn't depressed because she left the wood. That wasn't it: in truth, it was liberating to be scouring the skies with Balthier, and even freer when she's on a magnificent hunt with her new family- the humes. But now, some of them have adjusted to a newer life.

Princess Ashe was a Queen now, and Basch was doing what he loved best: being a supportive role as a shining knight with a crystal or dragon armour; a two handed blade or large battle axe in his strong arm to keep the dogs at bay. Larse was finally getting older. The child bears many responsibilities; never had she seen such command in a boy. Larse had seen so much and with grace, gladly took his role. Penelo and Vaan were always around so that was a good thing.

Fran's and Balthier's campsite was adjacent to another encampment on the plains; although a bit further, the men on that site were still up chatting and roasting charred cockatrice meat from a recent kill. The fires from that lit up that side of the world, dancing shadows on Fran's left cheek and exposed skin from her Viera clothing.

As old as the trees in the wooded glen; the ancients around the cypresses and oaks had seen many rings, and would live as long as their forest was protected. Fran's small nose crinkled, smelling the newly scented grass beneath her feet from the night's rainfall.

She stared out at winter's night sky, folding her slender arms and rubbing roughened hands to warm up. Never too cold, really, her clan wore revealing clothes that looked like they were modeling for one of the Hume's sleep wear shops. Gratefully, Balthier, her present partner in arms wasn't prejudice against her attire. In fact, he raised a brow the first time they met. He hadn't dared used glib words to what she referred humes called: Flirting. He never actually flirted with her, but managed to do so with every other hume female that wasn't married or too old to hear. A chuckle escaped her lips at the thought.

From a distance, the small gathering of men in a small campfire ahead a ways from her and Balthier's, sat watching the tall female standing there beneath the cover of stars. Fran felt the chill of the new wind kissing her skin. Staring at all those night stars twinkling at her, it was good be alive. Death had evaded her, giving her another chance at another day to steal from those who deserve it - she took up that philosophy hanging out with Balthier. All due to his resilience, and charming insistence, she'd be up to see the sun. It became easier and easier as time went by. Having seen how some Humes and other races weren't exactly kind beings, or just selfish and destructive, gave her all the more reason to swipe candy from an errant child.

As she turned, facing the eastern wind, she felt the cool caress of winter's march, taking its hold on the entire land. Fran would take care to keep herself thermally warm; all those secrets she had known since birth – so very long ago. And that's why she's standing there facing the North Star. She's cherishing this very night.

How old would she be again? It hadn't occurred to her to tell even her closest friend – Balthier. With age, like fine wine, or a statuesque redwood tree, it is more like reaching the purity of strength and valour.

Fran secured her bow in the small binding on her back, making sure her long downy Viera hair wasn't in the way to get tangled up. As she walked forward, her small eyes, black and wise, focused on a bright star. If she walked further, a few more steps, perhaps, she could touch it. Her eyes started misting. The plains looked beautiful, yet empty without either her family or the company she was used to hanging out with for the past months. Her new friends: Humes. She had been feeling the great loss of so many things.

Turning around, she made sure Balthier wasn't going to stir anytime soon. Inside the tent they had propped up quickly, he lay comfortably without the use of blankets, silently snoring; looking ever peaceful like a child dreaming about the good times ahead. They were accompanied with a couple of passing merchants, saying only that they'd stay for a night or two and be on their way.

The Viera and Balthier were heading to retrieve the newly purchased sky ship he had made from one of the richer merchants in the city. It was a rare and unusual event: selling a few stylishly flying ships, these were equipped with all the state of the art designs and materials. All those that Balthier demanded to know would come in handy for them and her for. She was a genius at fixing things: the ships engineer was what she was generally referred to by those she and her partner brought along for the ride. Mostly, they would fly the skies together, towards the sunset into the vacant sky.

Smells of damp grass fiercely consumed her senses, it reminded her of her childhood with her sisters. Among the cool wood trees and dense foliage, they trained hard with relentless buoyancy. Those reminders made her feel good to take what was good and forget the bad; she had left them because their policies were no longer hers. Even as she walked further and further away from the fires that glowed ethereal on their campsite, and those unwanted vindictive tears spilt unheeded down her cocoa soft skin.

Balthier woke up slowly, his eyes opened to the world inside the tent; the caramel colored fur hide making up the material of their warmth brought him superior sleep. Grumbling slightly, he lifted himself up, his hand reached up to rub his eyes. Stretching, he grinned: "So much better than a five star Inn, I'd say…" he looked around, assuming Fran was there, "Right, Fran?"

He raked his hair with his fingers, closing his eyes momentarily. A sigh escaped his lips. The sky pirate wasn't worried; he knew Fran liked to venture off once in awhile. When he pulled himself off the small bedding, next to him, there lay his things and Fran's by the edge of the pergola. Balthier noticed something in one of Fran's belongings: A letter. He didn't want to pry, but he liked to sate his curiousity. Leaning over, he looked outside the opening, drawing the flaps aside. He saw his partner at a great distance. There, out in the empty plains, with a few cactuses spread out here and there, and smatters of small bushes, her willowy figure stood stark against the brilliancy of the stars.

"Well, she's too far…" Glancing at the letter, he saw the handwriting: Finely slender with delicate smooth lines, much like the Lady Ashe's.

He drew his brows together in perplexity; a weighty black mood hung over like a greedy cloud, shifting his calm in a drastic way. Gritting his teeth, Balthier uttered loudly: "Indeed, I shall have to wait until Fran returns. If I can bear it."

With a huff, he gathered his belongings a little too roughly.

* * *

**II. The Lady Ashe: The Present

* * *

**

Ashe leaned against the doorframe of the egress, facing her resplendent loggia. There, she could stare out at the stars and think of them. Of him. Looking down, the ring on her finger shone brilliantly, and the other, the one returned to her by Balthier sparkled as equally as the other. With a tender touch, she glazed her finger over the ring. An overwhelming sadness compelled her to bite her lip. No matter how busy she became as Queen, or how much was demanded of her, Ashe would come out here on this private veranda and start making wishes to the stars.

She missed them. All of them: Basch who now served Larsa, and Penelo whose smile lit up a room, always cheerful and independent over Vaan. And yes, Vaan, who had similar tender moments with her; someone who understood loss in love and family, and there, her smile faded when she thought of him.

The memories of her late husband no longer haunted her; leaving his spirit behind and looking forward to the future was what he would have wanted her to do.

However, the stabbing recollection of the sky pirate haunted her, even to the point of him invading her sleep induced nights. For once, she'd take care to forget. Wasn't it easy to forget when after all, she had lost the first love of her life to war? And how hard that was for her to get over? So why was it different for this man to plague her peace?

Releasing a sigh to the wind, Ashe shook her head, spilling soft pale blond bangs over her eyes. "I'm being entirely supercilious about all this," and she was half expecting the wind to answer; her eyes scanning the perimeter for any voice to hear her out. Nothing but the hollow sounds of the evening replied.

How bittersweet it was to get his message, along with her cherished ring. Her eyes misted a little, reading those well meaning words that splayed neatly on a folded parchment: Thank you for saving me. This simple message told her how it was important that she had considered his life.

* * *

**_The story begins: The Past; Lady Ashe and the Leading Man.

* * *

_**

"Come now, Lady Ashe, what do you make of me?" He said as he spread arms out as if he were showing off the room. "I'm not a horrible person, you yourself can attest to that." He then winked at her.

An unusual gesture for her. Balthier may be glib with his tongue, but he never forgot her status. He was very respecting towards the Princess in every waking moment, even when his thoughts were nothing but. Yet, months had gone by and she, by no fault of his, was compelled to feel extremely comfortable with the honorable thief. So much so, that she even allowed this situation to occur: they would have to spend the evening alone in a room in some foreign land.

Ashe had stared at him for suspended moments, and in that long fraction of time, she couldn't bring her eyes to stray away. There was a challenge there between them; it hung in the air like a silent crackle of electricity; and Fran, who could feel these things, much to her disconcertment was standing there; her arms folded as if she were bored. Incidentally, the expression on her face looked as if to kill.

It didn't occur to her at first that Fran had any romantic attachment to Balthier, being as they were separated by a divide of such a thing as 'race' between. And Fran was from a world of all women in her tribal community; all females bearing long downy feel ears as large as the worpel bunny's own. Consequently, the stab of her own consciousness brought her to remember her late husband. The man she swore to love forever; conversely, it was as if it were only yesterday. It didn't help much when he appeared to her every now and then in temples as a supernatural figure, and Vaan had stopped his own eyes from seeing his long lost brother.

Still, Ashe looked from Fran to Balthier and composed an expression of the utmost lady like demeanour, even slashed with a bit her regal bearing: "I suppose it would be okay to do this strange quest for one night. King Raithwall's descendent and Lord Cid's only heir, formerly judge, spending the evening in a strange mist bearing chamber."

It was indeed a strange quest: it was posted earlier on one of the boards, somewhere in her uncle's city, the Marquis Halim Ondore IV. The notice board told them to go to a petitioner in the city of Bhujerba. There were plenty of strange quests, and one was the Flan they fought recently who only challenged the feminine persuasions. The man who was found in the tavern drinking one of the very prized wines slurred with only one eye opened, relaxed against the chair, saying something about only thee royal blood shall sleep and a male and a female must sleep for an entire night.

Basch was of common blood, and the others were not of royalty in any way. Even Ashe had to disguise herself as one of them; the ragtag team of hunters ranking points and experience to aid the commonwealth of humes and other races. The only option was Balthier, a gentry's level or upper class of no less. He was grinning from ear to ear at the decided petitioner, even sharing a sip of wine or two with him, only to eagerly accept not a moment too soon.

Fran's eyes revealed nothing at the time. She was, after all, used to his cheekiness.  
Since they were on a hunt, the six of them had to split up, to keep up with the pace. Their next quest was to venture into Archadia without being detected and it was absolutely out of the question for them to go on airship, or to take public transportation. So the only option as Balthier blithely quipped: By foot. And that wasn't all too fun for a couple of them. Penelo, who enjoyed and cheered up the others with her enthusiasm, was always willing to adventure out into the big world. Away from Rabanastre's lowtown and uptown communities. She was with Vaan and that was all that mattered.

Penelo wanted to go with Vaan, and they did, with the question of who should baby sit the two, watching over them if anything should happen. It was decided between Basch and Fran, and in the end, with the help of a flip of a golden gil. Heads up would be Basch, the thirty six year old sturdy veteran knight; consequently, the gil landed on a dragon's tail. This meant it was up to the oldest member of the group: Fran with her wisdom and expertise in all sorts of weapons and dark magicks.

Seventeen year old Penelo was happy all the same: she was going to learn how to use white magick to the utmost of her ability. And she was fast showing her talents, shoving cures all over the place with exact precision, saving them in the nick of time.

Fran had then lifted up her sleek white brow at the other three: Ashe, Balthier and Basch and nodded: "Then it is so, I shall look after the two youngest and continue onward to the opposite direction until we meet up in Archadia."

It sounded good. Vaan was a bit put off with the fact that they, Penelo and he were to be 'baby sat' in a way. He even made a protest: "Hey, don't you think I've proven my worth to even the best of you?" His eye landed on the knight they had saved weeks ago.

"Aye," Basch nodded curtly. "You have the courage most would wish for, and yet, still, there is more time to learn. It is because we trust not, it is that you and Penelo haven't understood the ways of the world." He offered a small smile to assure her fears, although he wondered if Penelo was made of sterner stuff than her exterior would have many to believe. "In time, when we cross many boundaries and have acquired the knowledge and wealth of monsters and gil, then experience to you in handful is given."

Penelo looked over at Ashe, "True, even Lady Ashe knows a lot more than most girls her age."

Unbeknownst to them, Penelo's life was harsh, losing her family and living day by day and obtaining odd jobs here and there through out lowtown. It didn't occur to her that these things should be a drastic upheaval on a young girl's life. Not so to Penelo. She was too strong for that, and her cheerful disposition acquired her to take everyday as just. Even her life long friendship with Vaan was so strong; she knew he'd be there for her as much as she would be for him. After all, who would look after him when he too had no family?

Ashe only smiled at the younger girl's comment; her eyes kept the serious glint, only honed by the royalty of her upbringing. "Then it is settled." She accepted, her leadership qualities bursting forth: "We'll make flight towards the Icelandic hills of the Panarima Rift, and you three go the opposite direction from Rabanestre's Estersand to the West, coming back full circle into the plains of Giza's."

Balthier folded his arms, standing firm with legs apart; his forceful yet gentle deep voice added, "Then we'll find ourselves together at last drinking champagne to celebrate our victories on the sandy Archadia region shores on Phon Coast."

"You're so sure we're all going to make it, Balthier." Penelo chimed in. Her expression held sadness; she knew they had to part even for a few weeks. "Maybe if we had more teleport stones." She then looked a bit sullen at the small amount left there on the table. They would have to divide it among them, and only then use it wisely and sparingly.

"We have quite enough, it's not the point of having to travel by using the stones; however, it can be detected if we buy them." He offered as information, glancing at all of them. "My ship currently is being repaired at the Aerodome, and by and by we could not go by air for fear our cover would be blown."

"Right." Ashe softly replied, "The stones we possess, and so few, we will cherish until we can earn enough gil to buy more at intersections."

Vaan walked forward. "Okay, I need to go to the weapons and sundries store and get supplies." He checked the small pouch of gil clinking around his hand. "I need items just in case," he sighed, "Items is all I can afford."

"Here, I have a few extra," Ashe generously offered, "My sword I carry now will be enough until I can learn to steal from my enemies." With the word 'steal' she couldn't help herself, and all but give a glance over at the sky pirate. He looked back boldly, a silent approval glinting with merry mischievousness in the depths of his eyes.

"When we finish this first trek, we'll regroup and discuss what needs be done." Basch moved behind Ashe, as if he were a hovering protector over his would be queen. Years of being a leader and captain protecting royalty honed in his blood couldn't shake it out of him.

"Then we switch again!" Penelo's cheerful voice giving light to their somber quest, and they all agreed with the youngest of the group.

It would be best so that they all could take turns helping each other out. And in the crucial points of the mission, if and when it does happen: A powerful being that could kill the three of them. For this, they would have to join forces again, taking a teleport stone to bring them face to face with that force.

That night they slept soundly, only to wake in the morning and make their farewells.

The six of them parted as two groups of three, and later, after surviving their adventure, they'd meet again in the comforting arms of Ivalice.

* * *

_TBC: to be continued._

* * *


	2. The Rift & Eruyt Village

**A Hunt Begins: The first party **

**

* * *

**

It wasn't long before Lady Ashe started feeling the bitter cold; Panarima Rift usually wasn't so bad if the blizzards weren't in full force. However, today, of all days, she actually felt the biting chill. The Lady and her so-called would be knights: Basch and Balthier, who willingly accompanied her towards the marked hunt, noted her distractedness during battle. When they were in the heat of battle, fighting an ice elemental and several escorted fiends that popped out of the ground, Ashe nearly forgot to use cure. The elemental seemed to see this as a weakness, casting blizzara on the entire party. After Basch used his Quickening, ending the battle short, he approached her. Standing before his would be Queen, Basch gallantly offered the warmth of his Genji armour.

Balthier glanced at the exchange, wiping the snow off of his person. He folded his arms to watch if she would accept. If anything, he mused, she needed to cover up; it was very distracting to say the least, having basically a very tiny red skirt, which was also very tight. He thought that at times, when she was appointed leader of the group, he could actually see her panties. He shook himself of that image, reprimanding himself to behave. It wasn't as if he weren't a green boy at such things. His partner Fran wasn't wearing anything at all, with little armoury, but she kept warm all the same. Bloody well likely that the juice in her ran Viera hot, especially with all those feral strikes Fran liked to do. Yet, with the Lady Ashe, he felt somehow dirty if he thought of such things. _It was her fault for wearing it,_ he told himself. And he knew that was the worse thing to think about. He groaned aloud, startling the couple to look at him.

Cheekily smiling, he shook his head. "Nothing, nothing."

Ashe returned back to Basch's kindness; she stared up at the blond man presenting a rather well-known armour. None in the party could forget that it was he, Basch fon Ronsenburg, who rightfully should wear the garb after finalizing the fatal blow to the Legendary Gilgamesh.

And as noted, she had declined, saying that she would get more from the next merchant they came upon. That wouldn't be likely since they just left Mt. Bur-Omisace. Balthier decided that he would have to step in, and offer his own type of assistance.

"Our Princess, you see, is a very noble woman, and perhaps rightly so; however," He paused, the twinkle in his eye was noted by Ashe. "She would do well to take heed of the weather's condition until we can get out of the cliffs of this Rift. It is just a ways, and the next stop will be long."

She eyed his coat. Ashe was wearing her own white robes, but a rather small insurance against the blizzard. As it whipped against their faces, they couldn't stand there too long until the worst would come: the Halycons. These large sun shaped elementals could put them all to sleep if they didn't hurry up and don armlets against it; or they'd secure their newly learned magicks in a silent slumber. For the moment, Ashe's good eye sight could see that they were pretty safe...for awhile. She voiced out her thoughts: "How about yours?"

The challenge was there. Balthier slightly grinned, nodding. "Why, I believe I was just about to suggest that." He lied. With slowed movements, he shook his heavy coat off and before she could take it, he walked around, halting behind her to place it over the princess's slim shoulders. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "I daresay that my coat offers more solace than Basch's sweaty and dull armour. But pray tell, I'm left without a coat myself. My sacrifice is great indeed. Far cry from stealing a princess who demands so much from a sky pirate's bounty."

"Your words are full, Balthier." Ashe scolded him. "Fear not, noble thief of the skies, I have my white robes in exchange should you feel the bite of the wind."

Ashe had a way about her that bespoke grace with a capital 'G'; her every movement spoke volumes. She charmingly pulled her robes off, dropping it on the white ankle deep snow. Bending over, and oblivious to the fact that Balthier was still behind her, Ashe lifted her leg off of the snow. Leaning her slender hand against him, she slowly shook off the snow from her booted feet. This process was undeniably a little too long for the men's lingering eyes. Her deft fingers procured the white robes. She gently shoved it against the lofty pirate's bronzed armoured chest. "It has a smaller defense than yours, but it's light, providing more speed than you have, should you require that as well."

Balthier wickedly smiled, "My honour, Princess, is secured, as ever in your care." He wasn't too happy about the exchange, deciding that white robes just wasn't a pirate's style; he waited till she turned away to bundle it up in a ball, thrusting it inside his pack.

As Basch was watching the lively exchange between the two, he felt slightly disgruntled. And decided to take matters into his own hands. "I'll lead for now, I can take us out of here quicker and into the cover of the Stilshrine, it's near though lacks any cheer." He walked up the hilly slope, taking lead and Ashe kept up with him. Her shoes deep in snow and her shoulders felt heavier with the weight of Balthier's thick coat. The scent alone disturbed her. Her stomach muscles felt surprisingly tight at the moment.

The sky pirate walked after them, his gun secured on his back. He could feel the tinge of _something emotional_ from that rigid captain. What was it? Jealousy? Envy? Something akin to it? Perhaps Basch wants a little bit of a princess of his own. Things were getting a little more interesting than the usual treasure to be had with these hunts they partook in.

His hooded eyes strayed to Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca's lovely backside; this help ease the acidic bite of Panarima Rift's bothersome blizzard.

Xxx

* * *

**The Other Three: Vaan takes them back to ****Eruyt** **Village**

* * *

Penelo wanted to shove something hard and big on Vaan's head. She glanced down at her large pole: It was shiny, long, and unquestionably firm. How --? She rolled her eyes heavenward and a frustrated sigh escaped her lips_. How……._she mused inside her head, _was it that Vaan had no sensitivity to things?_ Such as bringing them full course back to the village where Fran could never enter again? Was Vaan so thick? Penelo loved him since childhood, like a brother and well, she loved him - _sometimes more than that;_ nonetheless, he was the lead in this party; they diligently followed his every agenda: From gambiting their positions and what they should arm themselves with, to where they were heading. This time, the next stop was Eruyt Village. Penelo had her suspicions, yet she still couldn't believe that he'd take them all the way back to the wood. They were already stepping out all over Golmore Jungle, kicking all the fiends here and there. Even sending a few running, but they didn't get far when she used her bow and arrow. 

As the closing of their footfalls led them to the entrance of Eruyt Village, it was Fran who decidedly said something. "If you don't mind, I must stay behind, remaining in the outskirts of the wood." She stood tall, lean and full of toned muscle; Fran would be fine without them for a short while.

Penelo glared at Vaan but he didn't take notice, continuing to scratch his head with a flustered grin on his slender face. "Oh yeah, you can't come in. I'll just run in and grab a few items that they don't sell back in Rabanastre and in other areas." He nodded over at Penelo finally, urging her to follow along.

His childhood partner closed her eyes momentarily, glancing over at their Viera friend. "Sorry, Fran. We'll be back soon."

"I'll be fine, thank you."

It was always Penelo who worried about Fran's welfare. Even the time recently when they first visited Giruvegan, and where they all stood in awe at the thick but controlled mist. Penelo had asked about her condition, and rightfully concerned if Fran were to become a bit crazed, or go feral-strike on them. And she, the tall Viera had thanked her then for her worry.

As the couple made their way inside, Fran stood by the edge, and Vaan asked one of the moogles if they sold any new magicks and items. It was his luck that they did: one item which would provide something for their growing black magick knowledge. It was in his interest to buy all the magicks he could procure, and at the time they had racked up enough gil to get what they would survive on. Vaan also needed to go inside.

Penelo scrunched up her face, "What? Why? We don't need to go and talk to any Viera's in there. Do you know of a hunt that I don't know of?" Her hands on her slender hips. She was wearing some light robes over her tight tanned jumpsuit, equipped enough for her strong white magicks and still sturdy enough against any attack.

"Come on. There's something I need to do." He clasped a firm hold on her; Vann brought her up the long windy steps to the center of the village. The climb was fairly short in comparison to the hills of Mosphoron Highwaste and the endless mystical roads on Giruvegan. And so there as they stepped into the alcove, the couple stood amongst a cool atmosphere of beautiful Viera's, all glinting with silvery armour and wearing close to nothing.

Penelo looked down at her own suit and consciously felt that she was wearing too much. And it was there that Vaan stood in suspended awe. Almost as if he was in Giruvegan for the first time again. Excepting this time, it wasn't the glorious night sky mist or the millions of eerily sparkling starlit gloom that hung over them. It was obvious to Penelo that he stood there in a dangled haziness, oblivious to her, and everything but the women sitting and chatting with barely anything on.

It was to Penelo's rancour that he came here just to ogle at the women! This time, without any thought, she raised her pole over his head.

A calm yet stern voice interrupted them: "Have you humes seen enough? You are not allowed here. How many times must we warn you?"

As they looked at the Viera speaking to them, they noticed it was one of the warrior-type women who guarded the central area entrance. They knew they were about to be kicked out. She stood there with her hand on her hip, the other held a long deadly spear. Vaan noticed she wore more clothing than the rest of them.

Penelo gulped, aware that they weren't welcomed; she anxiously grabbed Vaan's arm. Years of defending Vaan honed inside her. "We don't mean any harm. My partner wanted to come here and obviously he has a mission to be here. _Right?"_ She looked up at Vaan with a heavy glare of warning. "Right?" She added with a light venomous threat and a pinch of a sharp elbow to his midsection.

"Off!" Vaan complained, the wind knocked out of him. "Uh yeah. I do actually."

"What is going on here?" Another Viera approached and Vaan and Penelo recognized her. The familiar Viera widened her eyes and a friendly smile replaced the frown. "Oh it's you! I want to thank you again for the help earlier."

It was Nera, the young woman who had given them the gillie boots and the much needed lightning arrows for Penelo's perseus bow. They had taken down the vorpal bunny not too long ago, and although it was a wild goose chase, it was in the end a successful battle. Penelo was so glad to see her.

"You're welcome! We had other hunts here that were posted at the billboards in Phon Coast as well." Penelo offered; she didn't want to discuss too much to anyone about where they were actually headed. She could instinctively trust the Viera, for they don't seem the type of race who gives out information too easily. Archadies being their current destination, though not their last; albeit a destination they were too familiar with. Penelo's eyes nervously flew back to the guarded Viera. Nera smiled, said something to the other Viera - which made her depart, leaving Nera with the couple.

"What brings you back to the village? Have there been more hunts posted?"

Penelo bit her lip. "Actually, we came because we were in the neighbourhood and Vaan needed some supplies."

Vaan grinned. "Yeah, and there's another business I wanted to attend to. The Garif in Jahara, I'm sure you know them? There's a Garif that goes by the name of Low-Chief Sugumu who gave me some rare herbs that only grow on the Shred in Ozmone Plain. He had given me some to supply for the women in Giza Plains. Equally, I'm sure that these," He paused, grabbing a tiny handful out of his pockets. "I was given the impression these would provide a useful salve for your village."

Nera's red eyes, so much like Fran's had widened with a happy glint. "These will do well indeed. I have not traveled out of the village much as it is law here that we remain in the confines of our home. Yet, those few who would venture out, and only in desperation to post bills, finding hunters like yourselves should do so by permission."

"Here, for your troubles." She handed Vaan a pair of armlets and stone bolts.

"That's very generous of you, Nera," Vaan took it, happy to have made another customer smile.

As they walked out of the center, idly passing several Viera's who ignored them; Vaan gave a sidelong glance at Penelo. There was a _I-told-you-so_ look in his eye. She didn't seem all too impressed either way. Vaan was always lucky; even after his brother died; he found luck with friends who would stay loyal and true to his side. Infact, he brought luck to her as well: meeting royalty like Larsa and Lady Ashe was by no means a small feat. Vaan's dreams of becoming a sky pirate were so soon realized. This good fortune followed Vaan wherever he went.

"You're very lucky I didn't hit you on the head with my pole, Vaan." Penelo said, ending any conversation that would start up. He gaped, closing his mouth as he watched her saucily walk past him. She strode steadily ahead, her chin up in the air, wanting to catch up with Fran and get the hell out of the village.

Xxxx

* * *

_To be continued: _


	3. Back to the tomb

**_III. a: _**

**_Stilshrine of Miriam._**

**_xxx

* * *

_**

That was the decision: Go to Stilshrine, to where the tomb's edifice stood and recoup.

They had fought several more fiends before continuing on, braving the elements and the ruthless whipping weather. Ashe having the resiliency and defense by way of her new armour via Balthier, was curing on schedule; albeit on the sluggish side, yet, her blocks were quicker and evading was now a cinch. As for Balthier, it mattered not. Having strength higher than hers, it was easy to blast down monsters that popped out of the ground or walked on four furry legs.

Balthier thought Basch's suggestion to go the Stilshrine was a ridiculously weak idea. They'd done their duty there, and as far as he was concerned, he needn't go back. Unless of course there's spoils to be had: he knew there was though honestly, spoils are all over Ivalice; truth be told, he'd rather it be elsewhere. His reasons were entirely prejudice: He just didn't like the fact that the phantom of whatever it is that haunts Ashe day and night could appear there and string her up again. He was let down, to say the least: the way Ashe was so immersed by her need to avenge his death. Sure, she may have loved _him_, but he's dead. Dead. Dead_. Dead. _And the dead don't come back. Perhaps, he concluded silently, as he watched the two ahead make their way towards the snow-less steps, that he was irked at the way she deliberately ignored to cut the shard. No matter, he'd have to accept their route until they approached the teleport crystal.

Looking inside his pockets and the rucksack dangling next to his hip, there's enough ammunition for his firearm and other very useful items. Among those, a handful of teleport stones; he had given half to Vaan before departing with the other three. That boy was made happier with the extra stones pocketed. The night before, Vaan's sullen mood of having so few amused him. Entering the new region gave them respite from any enemies, so they ran up the long crème colored steps. The sky was blue and nary a cloud in sight. It's amazing that the weather changed from one section to another. That's just how it is in Ivalice: climate conditions change and the bloody fact that one had to wait it out until the rains come in Giza or the blizzards storm in the Rift.

As they approached the large entrance, by it the three Kiltias stood talking. Basch walked up and one of the Kiltias warned him about certain fiends that are most dangerous. There wasn't a hunt here; conversely, taking a breather inside might do the trick. There wasn't anything else for miles and miles, except Feywood and that place had no rest for somnolent souls. A great opening noise from the expansive doorway ground against the stone floors, and the way inside made possible. From their access, everything came back: the reminders of how they had to fight their way through the stone walls, colliding against tall statues that came alive: the similar horses that brought the memory of an older hunt in Salikawood; the strange upright enemies bearing purple skinned muscles holding axes, and weaker bats dropping crooked fangs. There was darkness ubiquitously, it was as if the cloud of dread and blackness hovered there, and seemed to wait their arrival.

It was a maze of puzzles, and how amusing those were to them. Finally figuring out how to get around, they could footpath their system via way stone. Thankfully, the worst was over and there wouldn't be much but smaller enemies. Though, the Kiltias outside warned them of hazardous monsters, the only meaning that gave Balthier was the verity that they're weaker than most hunters. Kiltias weren't meant to be soldiers; they're meant for protecting and praying to their religious ideals: in short, they were beaten by the Judges.

He wasn't being fair to his private assessment: the judges are not easily to be tampered with. Yet, with their unique group, the six of them brought their arrogance down by several notches. The sense of pride in Balthier's chest blossomed; it was not every day where he could mince armour like butter with his extra sword, securing a bullet where the sun don't shine.

Looking around, the sky pirate's lips quirked up, amusement danced in his eyes; he scanned their surroundings, not complaining that they had at least a roof over their head for a short while. "So where would you have us rest, Basch?" Balthier said aloud, his large gun over his shoulder. "Shall we take a breather here by the device you once pressed?" His head cocked over at the mechanism that brought zombies spewing forth with lack of experience given. It wasn't much but they were glad for a few minutes even if it was just a hard cold floor.

"If I recall, Balthier, it was Vaan who was appointed leader at the time." And Basch pulled out a folded wolf pelt from his rucksack, holding it out for Ashe. "My lady, these would provide well the means to secure you against the damp stones."

"Thank you, Basch." She smiled, watching the knight position the pelt over the ledge.

"Ah yes, but that was the first time, remember? It was the 2nd time you tried it out." Balthier corrected, determined to exact the memory.

Basch only sent him a glance, returning his attention to Ashe. "Forgive me for the lapse." He addressed the pirate, "However, if you recall, it only took but a moment to extricate them when I was lead."

Balthier snorted. "True enough. Your swinging arm with the Francesca axe should be placed in the hunter's monograph memorial."

Ashe seemed amused with their exchange. She could feel the tension amidst the three of them, wondering if there was a bit of a competition between the two. It might be just a natural instinct between men; they were naturally competitive in many arenas. Inexperienced and naive the lady wasn't; although, Ashe wasn't entirely a prude: all one could do is take one look at her attire to find that out, she was not immune to the lavish attentions of the opposite sex. Infact, most of the women in her region wore scantily clad clothing due to the searing weather. It was entirely too hot otherwise to wear much more. She was interested to find out that there were other communities that wore less than the people in her district. If it weren't for Vaan's rescue and meeting up with Balthier and Fran, she wouldn't have known so much about the Vieras, equally finding affinity with sky pirates.

As Ashe sat down, she pulled out her shoes to take the snow out, pouring it all over the ground. Most of the snow had chafed off and at least, she thought cheerily: It's not sand. Estersand and Westersand was extremely too gritty. Worse in Phon Coast. Balthier pulled out a couple of sticks of charred meat from his supplies. It wasn't her style to eat such fare; however, since the long days and nights of spending time with her new friends, she had to survive on what was necessary. Through the long black nights under the stars of Westersand, and Nam-Yensa sandsea, taking what they will - to the grateful days of coming across smaller villages in Estersand: they housed food that was suitable to her taste.

Since coming from Mt. Bur-Omisace, they didn't have much for food there to buy. The refugees already lacked in many things and the group felt guilty enough to stand in line to take what they had. The three had run out of food supplies right before entering the Mountain, and because many of the Kiltias had taken off to replace provisions, they could manage only a small meal from the grateful Ivaness. It was Ivaness who posted the hunt in Giruvegan to slay his maniacal brother. He had told them about how the Kiltias sent out caravans to get replacements and how for the time being, it was not a bountiful period.

Now, the three sat in quiet solitude in the Stilshrine, chewing on what little fare they had. Balthier sat closer to Ashe, his nearness was as intoxicating as wearing his armour. It made her feel oddly bizarre, and she was very comfortable around them. Though lately, _he_ had been rather flirtatious towards her - this made her feel the way she was around when Al-Cid made slight advances. Excepting of course, Balthier did it in a manner that was more gentlemanly than the former: This is what she's been telling herself.

"I suppose it's time we fissure out the most celebrated wine from Bhujerba." Balthier offered, pulling out a small flask.

"You still have one Bhujerban Madhu Bottle left?" Basch spoke with solemn conviction, unease splattered over his stern expression. "I do not believe it is in our best interest to take advantage of this situation; we must need take to the direction of the marked hunt and there are still other business matters to be done."

Basch received a gusty laugh from the pirate. Too long have they all been in each others company, reaching the sense of recognition in each other's personalities. "The problem with you, my friend, is that you don't take time to enjoy life's little moments." Balthier quipped, drinking some of the plum-rich wine, tipping the bottle slightly and elegantly. Shortly thereafter, he handed it to Ashe. "I think the Lady would do well to have a drink or two before we go into the maze." He nodded his head over at the way stone at the far end of the room.

She took it, eyeing the bottle, lightly sniffing its perfumed aroma from its contents. "It's amazing that something like this could make many citizens of Bhujerba pay a thousand gil. I've always wondered what flavour could evoke their pockets to empty?"

"You're about to find out soon enough." Balthier smirked, "..but easy now, princess, if you're not well adjusted to high spirits, your intolerance may heave a nasty after taste, and I'm not talking about Cassie from Giruvegan, filling your head with visions." The twinkle of mischief lighting his eyes, "Recall how the moogle in the magick shoppe acted after downing the bottle?"

"Yes, but that was because the poor fool drank the entire carafe as the rest of them did." She retorted quietly.

"And if we were in another place," the sky pirate lowered his deep cultured voice, "I'd do the same thing. As usual, we are not at the time and place." He folded his arms and leaned back, his legs extended, crossing over by the ankles. Turning his face up to the ceiling, he sighed aloud. "Mayhap when we finish this hunt and meet the others in Archadia on the shores of Phon Coast, I'd drink up."

"You have more Bhujerba wine at your disposal?" she leaned over, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Nay, but I can find more if need be if we were to take a detour to your uncle's neighborhood."

Secretly, Ashe wondered what it'd be like to see the sky pirate inebriated. She had seen very few sky pirates in her time, and many of them could hold a drink. Much more than some Rabanestre citizens. Right now, she rather enjoyed sitting there, with both the men she had come to admire and respect. Even if the circumstances were rather dark above the great tomb. Nothing remotely romantic, but she could see the vision of the future: Phon coast with her friends, relaxing against the wooden boards of the bungalows or rocky hills, placing her naked feet in the water's edge. And this time, she'd actually find succor in the white gritty sand; albeit anxious was she to reach there.

"If it will hinder my ability to fight monsters, then I shall make sure I take but a small sip." Ashe replied with acute sobriety, her dark lashes closed over her glassy eyes; the tops of her cheeks already blushing from the suggestion in the sky pirate's meaning. And indeed, her wild thoughts brought her to a restrained attention, receiving a grave look from Basch. "After all, wasn't it both your ideas to take a small break so that I may resume my curing skills at a productive and accurate rate?"

"My lady, your will is of your own, but I shall protect you from anything if need be." The former captain inclined his blonde head, the slash of scar smeared across above his brow evident in the darkened large hall.

She nodded, "You both are in my care." Serenely reminding the two of who the healer was in the group. Ashe took a sip, her movements as ever graceful and feminine. As she licked the sweet juice off her wet lips, Balthier stared a little too long, his eyes crinkled at the corners and the merriment there evident.

"I'd say, Princess, that you've championed the contents?" Balthier grinned. "Those Bhujerbians know their stuff."

"When this war is over, perhaps my uncle will have a supply in his wine cellar." She joked, smiling broadly for once.

"Ah, what joy! I knew there was something about your uncle that I liked; even if he did lie about your suicide."

Suddenly, Ashe turned a sober eye at him. "He didn't really have a choice, I understood why he did so…" her gentle voice faltered.

"I apologize for the mention." Balthier sighed, whisking a steady strong hand over his burnished trimmed locks. "Go on and take another sip, you won't regret it."

"You're a dire influence, Balthier, and I recall that someone had mentioned about you having Vaan as an apprentice?"

"Bah, I take no apprentices."

Basch turned away, his face sternly looking forward, listening to their exchange. He felt entirely too out of place between them. And only was he mostly in his element when it came to battles and politics. He had lived thirty six years without the use of silver tongues and charming tête-à-têtes. Those were not needed on the battlefield. What was crucial was the need to command and be diligent in his work. Still, Basch had to wonder what was Balthier's intent with the princess and if it was respectable. _Gods be damned_ – the knight grimly cursed to himself: _one cannot trust all pirates scouring the skies of Ivalice._ He'll have to remedy the situation when without the ear of the Lady Ashe close by; he and the sky pirate would have grave words. The need to protect the lady was his first priority.

With a grim expression, he smoothed his toughened hands over his light blonde beard, privately disgruntled at the growth there. He formerly liked to have it neatly trimmed; however, becoming accustomed to fleas and days without a bath during his imprisonment left. And leaving a grotesque aftertaste in his mouth. Meeting the princess via Vaan and the others made him painfully aware of how he'd forgotten how severe and important it was to be clean, attached with a badge of honour. All that had been stripped from him. With a grunt, Basch picked up his sword and shield, standing before her, "If your highness doesn't mind, I'd like to see what is by the way stone. Alone. There appears to be a few spectrals hovering close, and I'll dispatch them before we make haste."

Ashe nodded, "We should go with you."

"Nay," Basch replied a little too quickly. "Please, highness, Balthier is correct for once." receiving raised brows from that pirate, "...take a few moments to enjoy your respite before we meet up with enemies we recognize." He left immediately, striding forward to the end of the hall.

Balthier leaned over to Ashe, whispering, "I'd say he's too quick for blood. More so that he'd be perfect variety to be Judge than I would ever be."

"You haven't told Vaan you were a judge once, did you?" She said quietly, her eyes scanning his handsome face. Their bodies were a little too close, feeling the invisible heat between them; their faces inches just apart; she could see a reflection in his eyes. Even in the dimming light of the shrine, Ashe felt surprisingly warm, wondering if it was Bhujerbian wine: That was entirely too rubbish of a notion. Yet, as she parted her wet lips, she could see how close Balthier was hovering. Her eyes flew to his parted lips and she couldn't believe the way her stomach was contracting.

"I…" she stammered, the catch in her melodic voice didn't go unnoticed by Balthier.

"Say no more, Ashe…" He caught himself just in time, straightening. Balthier wasn't the type who could fall for any woman, and he had seen many in his short life. Especially in a sky pirate's life, where women drank strong wine, downing the fiercest spirits humes had ever created. They could drink any hume or bangaa under the circle of a round table. But the errant thought was there in his mind; his own face gave him away. He wanted the Lady Ashe with every fiber of his being. Even if it was a front, he'd never illustrate it to her, or worse yet, confirm it around Fran. That Viera would run hot with an untamed berserk much like her feral strikes. He shivered externally.

"Cold?" Ashe glanced up. She was glad the moment was gone. It would not do for a princess to cavort in this manner, and in the same place where she had seen her dead husband. The image itself was blasphemous; yet, the prudishness inside her royal blood had been ripped away, held hostage by his heavy stare on her lips and the candidness of his look. The notion was utterly ridiculous, but here she was, in one of the most unromantic places, feeling awkward. It didn't occur to her that he hadn't answered her question either. He was as much caught up in that strange moment as she was. Her growing feelings for the sky pirate would not do at all.

"Nay…" He answered her softly. "Just a wild thought."

Just then, they could hear the sound of metal against metal. The couple looked up to see Basch fighting against two phantom-like creatures. Their manifestations clearly showed as the knight slammed his blade against their metallic-bone claws.

"What say we postpone this, princess and help our comrade?" Balthier's eyes took on a look that bespoke his love for battle as well, grabbing the hilt of his firearm and running towards Basch.

She donned her shoes quickly, glad to have warmed up. What she wanted to say to Balthier before he ran off was that there would be no other time to recall their private conversation. There was nothing else to conclude. But the words died in her lips as she followed him with her hunting crossbow.

Ashe saw them: Two large bulky spectrals slashing at Basch and the knight had already defeated the first, causing an echoed muffled sound escaping from their lips. Balthier took aim and fired at the last, sending that ghostly monster back a ways. It tried to cast a spell to make Basch lose all his magick points. It succeeded by an inch of its life. She took aim, sending an arrow flying straight into its chest. The blind bolts weren't always effective, though another slash from Basch sent it back to its grave.

Bats flew around them and thankfully, only a couple appeared; they disintegrated with one bullet, dropping a couple of crooked fangs and pebbles.

"Bah...another pebble. Wouldn't you know it?" Balthier mused out loud, holstering his large pistol.

"Every bit counts." Basch replied. He secured his sword behind his back and walked up to the way stone.

"Not in this case. I believe we have more pebbles than we can count. All the fault of that monograph you bought, princess." He grinned at her.

She ignored his teasing, "I never noticed those monsters before. They weren't here the first time we came."

"Fiends pop up when we've taken an esper or two down, Lady Ashe." Basch offered, "I'd say we've got new enemies further inside."

"And _new _spoils." Balthier added with a cheerful deep timbre, "If we find what we're looking for, we can take what we can and leave this dreary place once and for all..."

The three stood by the way stone, transporting deeper into the cold embrace of the tomb.

_--XxxxX--_

_-_

* * *

_TBC: to be continued._


	4. The New Mist & Zertinan

_IV._

**_THE NEW MIST, SECRET TRAILS & FLIGHT INTO THE CAVERNS

* * *

_**

IV.

"We can't go that way…" Penelo barked in a disquiet manner; the gravity of her demeanor etched in her eyes. Her childhood friend abruptly paused, taking an about face.

"_That way_," she added, her slender finger pointing in the direction of the south, "Goes to the Paranima Rift and if I'm correct, that's the opposite direction."

They were standing like sitting ducks in the middle of Golmore Jungle. Yet, again, the three managed to work their way through dark corners, evading obnoxious foul smelling monsters and fiends ready to petrify their bodies. Worse, from Fran's point of view, are the cruel fiends who attack with a fearsome foul breath; this polluted creature could confuse their party, causing their actions to betray each other.

Fran agreed with Penelo, jutting her slender hip out, she placed her long fingers over them; the long fingernails were white and strong against dark skin and garments. "It is true, that way leads in the direction to where the rest of our party departed, and if we make haste, we can still have time to use a teleport stone, leading us to the sands of Ogir." Her reddish eyes snapped sideways, discovering a fiend skulking closer to them. With her new weapon: A hand bomb with an attack power of 66, she threw a prevailing bomb filled with the power of sap at the foul beast. The shell exploded with a loud bang, striking its mark; this action caused the fiend to bounce back with heavy damage; hitherto, it still lived. Thus, Vaan took the initiative: with the curved hilt of his ninja wind blade, he slammed the beast down with a final blow.

It was beautiful to watch Vaan work it: it was as if he were an expert hand at weaponry, stylishly swinging the thinly sharp sword with one curved stroke. At least that was what Penelo reflected: the idea wasn't wholly dismissed in the past; she knew Vaan was an extremely ambitious and determined individual. How high he had climbed the ranks of the clan's membership: the leader moogle suitably named Montblanc found the youth's skills much needed. After defeating the legendary Gilgamesh, it was to the moogle's attention that this boy was indeed a fierce fighter.

Sure, he had tremendous help from Basch, Balthier, and the rest of them; however, he was the main hero of the group. Unless Balthier brought it up that he was the _leading man_. Unsurprisingly, no one disputed his claims, believing the pirate alleged the statement with half truths. Vaan, being the original appointed leader, owning little skills in comparison, surpassed the other members of the Rabanastre clan: the Rava Viera warrior, the Bangaas, and bulkier Seeqs. There were the moogles; though, they took to tasks that required their minds than brawn. With that, they found moogles all over Ivalice, becoming mechanics and architects, exceeding inventions only Humes could only imagine.

"Okay," Vaan agreed, "We'll go, um, that way then." He pointed at another way which led back to Eruyt Village. The girls looked at him, daggers in their eyes. He grinned, laughing, "Hey, well, I thought we'd take a precious teleport stone, taking a quick route to Rabanastre." Having a couple swords handy: the ninja blade and the katana, he liked to switch weapons every now and then, relishing the light feel of power in his hands.

"We can't go back there, Vaan. We're supposed to go towards Estersand, routing back to the Deadlands by teleportation, unless you mean to walk from Rabanastre taking the east?" Penelo offered. "Then alright, although I don't mind walking: the reason why we use a stone was for that kind of occasion. It'd take less time traveling."

"I hear ya," Vaan replied, catching the stink of an approaching Marlboro-looking creature. It wasn't alone; their centipede legs inching closer. "But first things first, if we're going back to the orange crystal, what say we kick some butt."

"Aptly put," Fran half-smiled, raised an arm to throw another bomb. "But Penelo's correct, Vaan, there is no point to travel by way of where we started, unless there is a marked hunt we have completed."

Vaan vitality helped in taking care of the business of destroying the Marlboros, slashing with 4-hit cuts into their purple rubbery hides. He breathed heavily as he was about to land a blow to the last one; consequently, Penelo taking the upper hand, releasing the string on her Perseus bow, which sent an arrow into its squishy secretions. But not without a black cloud of smoke spewing forth from its orifice: a breath that brought dread amongst them: Vaan at the forefront took in with a gulpful, inhaling the fetid contents. Fran hurriedly tried to use Esuna, though not before Vaan's slippery movement shifted frontally, side swiping her with a sharp cut, causing damage. It was Penelo who saved him from further embarrassment; the stench of the creature's breath still clung obsessively to Vaan, and her quick facility to esuna the situation helped heal his confusion.

"Oh geez…" He saw how Fran went down, but she managed to heal herself right after. "I'm sorry, Fran, I didn't mean…"

He saw that she was holding a slender hand up, palm facing him, "It is of no consequence, I know as any other that beasts of that ilk can cause an individual to strike terror and disorder." Seeing the relieved look on Vaan, she wagered it was important to him that his friends were unharmed, and to be the cause of that injury was too much for him. Another reason why she took to Vaan quite easily.

"Those fiends," She remarked solemnly, "Are our worse enemies, many a Viera fall ill to its thick contaminated breath. It is good that I am using a weapon with distance. Do not worry, Vaan. I would have done the same if I were under its deadly influence."

"I hate those…." He said inaudibly, immediately thereafter perking up. "I suppose we should hurry back to the village then." Vaan flipped his katana like an expert swordsman and a juggler, finally landing it behind his back in its little secured case.

They hurriedly walked along the dark black-blue paths, swimming through the hordes of fiends that plagued the jungle. Their next encounter brought them face to face with a smaller version of a lizard beast, the jaws ready to snap at the leader of the group. Vaan slid back, quickly evading the attack, shoving himself forward to land two hits into the jutting face of the lizard. Back up from Fran's bombs and Penelo's arrow helped extinguished another obstacle.

They found an area in the Golmore Jungle that was surprisingly not available on their bought map. It was a hidden path, taking them into a short curving detour to the edge of Westersand, the direction where they weren't supposed to go. Vaan flustered, knowing he messed up. He was completely baffled at the new area, albeit dark and filled with fiercer monsters than those of Golmore possessed. This made him use full concentration on new enemies, not recognizing where was east and south and west.

When they reached a secret edge of the Jungle, he halted, looking at their map, then up again at the sky: "Wait….do you see that?" He gestured to the clouds; his companions looking up curiously. Vaan stared out at the horizon; the quiet disharmony in his mood brought alarm to the Viera. That sense of foreboding eclipsed his earlier mood; his eyes warily scanned the vicinity: darkening skies filled with shades of mist; it was coming from the north, carrying a gusty whiff of discomfort. Shapeless eyes of grey vapors danced along the edges of the horizon, urging them to continue forward. A dissonant ballet of invisible threads as if spun by charged mimics electrified the air. There, the three of them stood, hovering along the edge of Golmore Jungle, scrutinizing the day break fast and flight.

"I was thinking we should head out to the Giza plains first, Fran." His hand over his eyes hovered, and Fran's good eye could see as well what he meant. "I don't like the looks of what looks like Westersand this time around." He said with his eyes narrowed; his hand over them. "We're not supposed to go by that way anway. Sorry, I got us lost." He reached behind his head to scratch it, looking bereft and innocent. "We shouldn't have taken the secret route." Vaan's admission of guilt filled him with dread, feeling responsible for the girls.

Fran sighed as she hadn't paid attention where they were headed either, and the new monsters attacking them were a huge distraction. Their level of fighting was experienced, but not enough to withstand the confusion spells. What they needed was new armour.

"Secret trails seen not on the map are much burdensome, and sometimes, lucky, but the gods are not smiling upon us." Fran frowned.

They heard the rumble of clouds, and the storm way forth blowing a teasing abyssal of light rain his direction. "I wonder…" Vaan scratched his head, "Maybe there's an unchartered hunt there caused by something…what do you say, Fran?" He looked at the Viera questioningly, hoping to find answers. She was adept at analyzing the way of the mist.

Fran answered insightfully: "We should return to Rabanestre by teleport if we're to make it out of here alive. There is another route: we could take a caravan, the ones the humes have ridden across the plains of Ozmone, transporting us to Giza by subterfuge. This enables us a path to Rabanastre if we choose. A route burnt not by the soles of our shoes; we need not bear the long trek of Ozmone. Better in Giza, if we're lucky, and the gods smile suns on the stones of the Plains we can find relief. When it shines on those grounds, no mist can pierce its gods of fire by the daylight." Fran gave a nod, deciding to challenge the question to Vaan: "You think that we cannot best the weather, finding us facing a formidable foe? If so, our numbers have declined to three and we've not the power to obstruct what those mists hold."

The Viera saw perplexity in his eyes, enabling her to release them: "The mist comes from the northeast, it is something new. Nothing like the sands of Ester could conjure. I have not scented it before nor have I seen of its like. It has followed us here, as we speak: Brought from the edge above the water where no hume or other race breathing air has ever been. It appears like a shadow among the mists, spying within the darkest Jungles of Ivalice." She stood behind him, her skin felt the touches of the dew kissed mist, making her senses alert. "Your words of worry are not of naught, Vaan. I am with you on this."

"Sounds good. I like both ideas. The caravan the moogle had was back in Eruyt village. We could ask them if we can borrow it." Vaan took the lead, rushing ahead with his ninja sword. "Come on, we've wasted enough time."

"Oh so now he's in a hurry." Penelo muttered behind Fran. "Wait! We can't just go back to Eruyt village. Again!" She groaned, rolling her eyes. "Did you say borrow a caravan from a moogle? You know how much they'll charge us?" But she saw that he wasn't paying attention. Penelo grumbled as she ran after him, her arms swinging to and fro with her grip on the Perseus bow. Luckily for him, the path to the glassy orange stone was easier to get to, having no other enemy to barring their path. When they found their way to the stone, Vaan asked the moogle if they could loan out the caravan.

The small moogle jumped up, his cute eyes twinkled with mischief. "Kupo! We need that to go and place our supplies in, but if you really need it. I can charge you a fee."

Penelo whispered to Vaan, "Told you so."

"If gil is a problem, there is a favour I could ask of you if you accept and your party can travel free." The moogle smiled, its animated face alight. "Are you willing to listen to my favour?"

"Sure…" Vaan shrugged, wondering if it was all worth it, eyeing the orange large stone. Because the orange crystal was looking very good to him right now.

The moogle hopped up cheerfully, "Oh my name is Zurdy, by the way," And a name tag above his head appeared. "Thank you for listening to my errand. There is my cousin in Zertinan Caverns that went there on a quest to find more items to sew together to create new magicks. He hasn't returned and I'm very worried. I would go and search for him, but as you see, my duties are to remain here. I'm sure he is fine, yet, I am still 2 percent unrelieved. He is searching out among the sandfalls I think, or close to the entrance of Giza." Looking like he couldn't make up his mind, Zurdy's face crumpled.

"Hmmmm." Vaan looked over at his party. "What do you think?"

Fran folded her arms. "It depends. We still can make haste to Rabanastre if we touch the stone."

"I would pay you for your services naturally." The moogle exclaimed, "A handsome reward."

"I don't know…all that trouble just to take a caravan. We're just going to the Giza plains." Vaan wanted the extra gil, true, but he also didn't like the looks of the mist they saw earlier.

"The caves run by there." Zurdy's eyes lit up, encouraged by their route.

"Say yes, Vaan." Penelo replied, concerned over Zurdy's dilemma. "It doesn't seem like it would take too much time from our schedule. Besides, we can still stop off in Giza like we planned."

"Alright." He answered, already convinced by his girl's urging. "But I don't know when I'll be back."

It was finally settled and Zurdy even gave them several items they didn't own just for starters. Jumping into the caravan, Vaan sat up front to drive. The flap openings were laid back so that the girls would be under the cover of the convoy. Vaan remarked how he'd be easy target being the driver. Penelo giggled. "I'll just shoot them from inside with my bow and arrow."

Fran pulled out an extra hide from the back of the caravan, shifting through the remarkably clean and housed vehicle. "Here, this is what the moogles use to cover up the driver as they pass through areas." Placing it above the edge of where the line of tarped hide stopped, it magically upon connection extended forward to keep Vaan hidden.

"Saves me from getting hit." He laughed. "We won't be able to rack up extra experience this way if we're traveling through Ozmone by caravan. I don't think that this goes into the caves."

"It doesn't." The Viera said woodenly, "Like the chocobos from Jahara's stable, they halt at the entrance. The caravan is too wide and not suitable enough to enter. It would be too bulky when we can just foot it. Finding a moogle in the caves shouldn't be too difficult though." She ended, but not before capturing Vaan's fallen expression on the mention of moogle hunting trouble.

Penelo decided she'd take a little nap before they venture into the caves, and laid her head on the expansive fluffy pillows there. "Wow, it's like a small sultan's lair in here." She hummed satisfyingly as her blond head hit the pillows.

"It is?" Vaan glanced back, finding Penelo's situation so much cozier. "Maybe you should drive, Fran."

He received a glare from the Viera as answer: she was already resting against the walls of the vehicle with obvious comfort. "Tis not much far, Vaan. Call out for us when near."

She heard his disappointment, but took no heed to it. Taking the moment to look around: there were amenities inside: a variety of fruits and berries bundled together and held in deep bowls, and unbreakable bottles filled with juices could make their thirst go away. Fran reached out, taking some berries to nibble on. Seeing that Penelo's eyes were still open, Fran took this opportunity to speak of the younger woman's skills.

"I have noticed your ability to hone magicks faster; more so than many even in my village, Penelo. I'm quite proud of your ability to champion all available colors of magick." Fran said this with affectionate praise. "We're lucky to have this group; a healer is an essential in every hunter's organization, small or large. "

Penelo had indeed learned white magicks at a surprisingly faster rate than Fran. The capability to use black magick came a little slower for her, being that the Viera was adept at black magick from life in the wood. In the time that it took Penelo to acquire the license to get her white magick, using it, she healed and raised everyone a thousand miles before they could reach critical Hp.

It was to some degree of favourable jealousy in which Fran was impressed. Fran knew that Vaan and herself had similar speed and skill; although, Vaan younger and possessing great virility, kept up a higher constitution. With Penelo, there was the question of who was speedier: this showed in the skill of magick and esuna. Penelo had a remarkable necessary asset without the use of expensive armlets for haste. Fran crinkled her small brown nose, thinking of how fared the other three: Balthier and herself were completely opposite: the sky pirate having strength and defense despite the extra armour. The Viera was adept at her speed and skill with various weapons. With two men on the side of strength, the princess would have need of keeping up with her healing skills and other magicks. Those two would need it if they were going down to hunt what was called a legendary phantom.

"Thank you, Fran…" the young woman said, dozing peacefully off. Her blond lashes fluttered, finally resting against the light rose-dusk tops of her cheeks.

* * *

_TBC: to be continued._

* * *


	5. Vossler and Ashe: Vengeance's Past

**Intermission Flashback: Vossler and Ashe. **

**-**_Behold, on wrong Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong._

_—the Odyssey._

_xxxoo_

_

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_

They were running along the winding pathway, kicking up sand in their boots. Running towards the great imperceptible fortress, away from the dogged steps of soldiers now far behind; they finally came to a close, drawing further from the clasp of civilization. Their journey took them to the great ruins hidden along Dalmasca's shores. A tower amongst the shores of Ogir Sandsea, and an invisible fortress that once stood tall and mighty centuries ago before the sands of time took precedence. The couple had come to the fortress by way of a map bought by traveling merchant. Not from one of the moogles, but by one holding the eyes of a lost haunted soul.

"It's not much, your Majesty, but it will set the path of soldiers on our tail to back down."

And the tower appeared, in and out like a transparent mask of deception before them; they looked up, craning their necks at the edifice of sharpened edges of its oddly shaped decorative design.

"Many were already half discouraged by our route here." She said, noting the way the sand picked up, creating small tornados from the brisk magic of the air. "We had lost much back in the Waterways."

And they had. Vossler only grunted as answer to her comment, too busy to find a way inside or stonily avoiding the casualties on their end. She thought it was more so the latter.

As the fortress hadn't showed up for any trespassers, but those who purchased the cost of the map, it was now visible to them. The entrance was made of fragile stone, gray and weathered by the sand and heat. Though, with the touch of his armoured hand, it managed to hold fast.

"It looks fragile, but there is a magical binding." He tried looking for a handle, but there wasn't any. "However, one must make do with what we have at hand."

Vossler brought the hilt of his sword down with a loud bang; the thickened metal encircled by his muscled grip brought them - his royal highness and himself into the new chamber lit room. It was not much, but it was enough to get by and to escape the Archadian soldiers fast on their heels. She had also brought her light armour and shield, bearing the jagged sword in her hand. Ashe was not a damsel who needed constant protection: she had stood on her own ground, had pushed against the fray of soldiers that once stood in their way.

In the circle of their small group, they were now just the remaining two. Vossler felt more protective than ever. At once, he took the weight of command: being the royal born son of a blue blood, and bearing the rule of captain, he was protecting the life of a princess who everyone thought had taken her life. No one but he, so far, has known of her survival. He felt a kind of power over this_………..he was so tired of the running and the constant conflict. _

The dark tendrils of his hair wet against his forehead, from the sweat and grime they worked for, now bothered him. Vossler felt every fiber of his body stretched up like a bow string ready to be plucked and released. Their situation was dangerous. Soldiers were posted everywhere, outside the Waterways, even stationing themselves along all the exits of Lowtown, and their escape was only minimal, only to be saved by their former companions who had lost their lives. Never was the time to mourn for weakness or for anything that would bar their way to safety. If need be, he would head towards the Archadian soldiers with all of his might, if not for the princess. If need be, he would make a bargain. Not as a surrender, although, a truce of some sort. He eyed his companion, both taking note of the way the room must have appeared. For now, they would rest here until the persistent soldiers stopped looking and they could sneak out to escape this fortress. If they were lucky, their would-be pursuers would never find their way to the shores of Sandsea.

"We need to close this hole up, and repair it as if it were close to new. They won't come this far. I have a feeling many soldiers are afraid of the spirit that haunts this section of the fortress. Or the fortress itself. Remember, tis the map that shows the Ruins to us."

Ashe wasn't convinced. The traveling merchant could have sold maps to anyone, and not just to them. Perhaps it was the time of day, or even the condition of the weather or their situation that brought the merchant to their cause. She didn't think much more of it as she helped Vossler.

So they managed to pile the broken pieces of fallen debris and stone unto the gaping hole, where they passed through. By way of her entrance had not caused much, but it was he, with his bulkier weight that had caused the most damage. It didn't take them long to pull all that they could to cover the hole.

She was panting, her chest rising and falling, and the cold mist not only brought chill into their bones, but frost blue smoke puffing out of their mouths. As they entered, amidst the debris and the destruction, she was struck at the way the chamber was dimly lit: the red candles brought a sense of passionate display against the ruined crimson sheets that were splattered against the large expanse of the bed. The canopied roof housing once decorative silk material now hung lifelessly as the apparent dust covered it with a dullness, bereft of its former beauty. On ground, the floors were half hidden by dust-white specks and treasures of gold and silver metal plates, armoury, and weapons that were no longer useful. In the far corner of the room, there stood a long window. She gasped; her eyes scanned the perimeter of the room, pausing at the flames. "It's barred. And the candles. How is it that it's been lit? I thought this part of the fortress wasn't habitable? Mayhap it is haunted. Though I do not care for such things…."

"It isn't habitable though I fear your last words are true, Lady Ashe. Although I have heard of the former rumours: this primordial Ruin, once there was a passing spirit bent on revenge on souls that need respite."

His voice was grim, and his eyes inflexible as cold steel; the stony glance he sent her gave Ashe cause to remind her of those that had died. His soldiers under him; they all had given their lives to protect her. But he was determined to set things right, or try as he might, to be the Dalmascan soldier bearing royalty in his veins to bring the strength of Ivalice back into Dalmasca rule. Vossler's steely glance was fleeting, setting his short dark lashes over his sun burnt skin. The trek across the desert was harsh on their skins, and he but with the weight of the armour bore it like it were but feathers on his soul. Vossler wanted desperately to relax his tired muscles, and set his weapon down, taking off his armour. There was a deep cut on the shoulder, and he wanted to stem the lesion. Dried blood had managed to form around his skin. The sound of his heavy armour fell with a loud thud on the thick carpeted floor. She in turn placed her weapon down, along with the shield and managed for the first time to relax.

"Arggh." He complained, "This wound must impede if we are to move on." Looking up, he sent her a small plea, whispering a request: "If I may have your assistance, Lady Ashe? Not to worry about the spirit of vengeance in this ruined fortress. She's mayhap a spirit that has more bark than bite." Vossler reached up to grip his shoulder, assessing the damage caused by the soldier's sharp blades.

She nodded, "Of course." Ashe casually smiled; the corners of her pale pink lips lifted, scoffing at the last mention he made of the spirit. "I'm not worried. We're the perfect victims for her retribution though. Respite indeed." Ashe wasn't worried at all, being in the company of Vossler helped much; he was there by her side through the thick and thin of it all and one of the only souls to know of her continued existence. With his assistance, she knew he'd help bring Dalmasca back to its former glory and draw the incessant violence of Archadia's greedy grasp.

He had sat down on the offered bed; one of the few places to sit on since the floors draped by old pale dust and treasures too primeval to decipher barred them. Vossler's grunts of suppressed pain alerted Ashe. She looked over at the gaping wound there, not deterred too much by the show of his naked chest. She felt she had to do something and her immediate actions set her into motion; she had to offer her assistance to her protector.

"Here, let me help with some curing magick I've been able to acquire, Vossler." She took one of the dormant sheets, ripping them quickly; a tearing noise causing a piece of long strip just enough for her to wrap around his shoulder and under his arm. Ashe was quick, and he silently watched without so much of a pained expression, actually enjoying the ministrations she set upon him with the guidance of healing magic. As subdued as their state of affairs was, the ambiance gave way to a strange enclosure; the warmth of being cloistered up like this between them wasn't unpleasant, but it was for the time being a charged reprieve.

She was surprisingly tender as she wrapped the bandages over his shoulder and arm. Her blue-silver eyes darted to and fro from the wound now seeping into the bandage and disappearing into the thickened folds as they multiplied by the layers. Ashe, thankfully was not without some healing magic of her own. Drawing her hand over the bandaged cut, the glow of blue white healing magic formed around her and seeped into his skin. It would hold for now, and he would heal faster. The cure itself would divide and he'll be back to his former self; if only until he himself would get rest.

"There, it should be fine. You'll be able to use your fighting arm once we leave this place." She whispered, a little too close for their comfort.

The ambiance of the room filling with red-passion candles gave their situation a strange passing feeling indeed; however, if the spirit of vengeance who lived in this ancient fortress should return, then they would battle…..they couldn't be best now even if a horde of Archadian soldiers came bearing down. She remained by his side and tempted by the bed, wanted to sit next to him.

There was no other option but the bed.

"Princess Ashe, if you could hold your hand over my wound a little longer…." He gritted through his teeth, feeling the numbing ache of pain in his tired muscles. Vossler had fought hard against their enemies, even sinking his blade unto enemies that weren't of hume-variety. Taking claws and fiery breaths of wyrms and all types of fiends that blocked their path to safety.

"What is it?" She asked, the concern splaying over her soft Dalmascan features. He liked to look at her, every inch of her…..and longed for her, not in a sexual way, but in a way that demanded respect. He had always longed for her to finally reign over Dalmasca and him by her side as his protector. Never had he considered her in that sexual way. She was to be Queen, and Lord Rasler, was his friend at one time; just as Basch, an equal to him in the military - though the man was not of royal blood.

He was proclaimed the callous captain; so proud of his accomplishment, but _ah,_ he reminded himself…._this is not the time for dreams_….now is the time to take hold of the moment. And he knew that Lady Ashe would persevere. She wasn't weak, and he could see in her haunted eyes the demand for power, and one so powerless as she, craved it like a starving urchin. He had watched her fall, after the announcement of her would-be suicide, and she had taken to the underground of the resistance, stationing with him, and being by his side ever since. Though namely insensitive, Vossler had not let things gone unnoticed. He had seen the way her eyes widened with greed, closing it immediately as if fearing the consequence of wanting, over the mention of anything remotely to her blue-blood and existence. Mentioning restoration of Dalmasca's kingdom is always a topic accompanied with grim reminders. Never had he seen her weak, _never_….and as close as he was to her, feeling the current between them - she was strong as Westersand's storms when the Wyrm lived to hail its immobilizing breath; a fossilized stamp on Ivalice's rocky cliffs.

He couldn't utter a word….Vossler just stared at her, drinking in her unnatural beauty in this wraithlike pale-red light. Finally, realizing how much of bold propinquity they were to doing the things they should not do. He opened his mouth, mouthing the words he could not speak, staring into her eyes like a drowning man. Mayhap – he reasoned in the final words of his reason that the room itself was coolly lit with hot fires that kept the warmth of behemoths in feywood stirring.

The sensation of her touch sent an electrified charge between them and she drew her hand back as if bitten. Her eyes widened, showing the depths of her blue-grey orbs, showing a tiny bit of fear. He felt it too, whatever it was, and he wasn't daft to realize that the separation of their station – he the knight of royal blood and she with the widowed title of a fallen Dalmascan would be-once- queen, stood here, touching him in such a way that defied all rationale.

She wasn't ignoring the fact that this was indeed – _inappropriate._ But propriety can go to hell – no one but he and the Princess can witness what they should _not do_. She could not help herself but voice those thoughts:

"We should not, Vossler." It was to the point. Though the words spilled sure from her lips, her eyes strayed to his chest. Her hands remained close to his hot skin. Presently hovering over his wound, the shaky fingers touched ever so slightly over the light hairs on his shoulders and arms – in awe at the expanse of naked chest, and pure masculinity exuding from him. She wanted to inhale all of him – _and why should she not_…..?

He painfully closed his eyes; his adam's apple moved as he swallowed several times, and it was he who inhaled her scent as she leaned closer. "Gods be damned, Lady – …" Vossler choked; a croaked proviso uttered in defeat, "There's nothing more than, more than _you_ that _I_ want…"

It was wrong and she placed her finger on his lips, silencing him. "Shhhh, speak not of this, Vossler. And allow me to heal more wounds to your service."

He nearly whimpered, knowing that was such an unmanly thing to do, but her presence – the taciturn willingness to further their relationship was driving him to the point of insanity. But_ if_ she slapped him, then so be it – he wanted to see if he could – and leaning in, just inches away from her lips, he tentatively touched the hard line of his mouth to the soft curve of her face; oh - so close to her pliant lips.

"Lady Ashe, if I may," He harshly whispered against her pale soft neck, his hot tongue gliding roughly along the contours of fine skin, making him quake visibly. It has been so very long, so long since he's held a woman in his arms, and one who was more or less a woman who he may not touch in such a way. This taboo heated his loins and fired up his soul like nothing he's ever felt. It was better than fighting on the battlefield, with blood in his hands and heavy sword to command; that feeling always made him feel superiorly alive. They stumbled unto the bed, arms and legs moved with efficiency, taking what was left of her clothing, of her armour and of what little under things she had.

Vossler nearly ripped them off, for the eager cry of his demand was too coarse, even for a blue-blood like himself. He had been too far into the combat zone to take a woman of royalty like this – when all he had in the past were wenches lusty and rough as he. Just so he could spent himself quickly, leaving them in the morning to continue his rigid duties.

Now, as he seized this supremely waiting woman beneath him, pliant and supple skinned, like the feathery touch of fine silk, he almost went completely mad. Never had he felt that he could lose control like this. His loins ached and his member had hardened long ago, long before they parted with their clothes.

"Vossler,….." She gasped, trying to catch the air in her lungs, and her weak arms slowly held him, like a caress of a lover's warmth, fueling her own blood to the highest ardour. The way her legs lifted, shuffling up against his bare skin; roughened masculine flesh against her soft untried skin, it brought a kind of diversity into their lovemaking.

"Yes, my Lady….god, I want you, I want you so bad…." He gruffly whispered, his voice disappearing into her skin, making his lips kiss and greedily suck up what skin he could find of her. All of her was not enough for him, and his body eclipsed her own.

"You….may…." Ashe spoke softly against the dark tendrils of his hair, close to his temple, inhaling the musky sweat he exuded. Everything went into a cocoon of haze as the sound of rushing blood pumped violently against her ears.

She had given her permission, and by all the gods - it brought him the access that he wanted, and he had forgotten for the briefest moment that he had to have her permission. He almost forgot they were divided by this intangible web of ruling class. He, of noble birth, still so, with the management of protecting his highness, and her with the highest order of blue blood could not, even widowed after two years, lay with another man. She was still untried but not unknown to the passions of men.

He rubbed the nub of her heat, creating sensations deep within her that she hadn't known…ever and her eyes opened wide. Staring into the dark depths of his impassioned eyes, Ashe parted dry lips, wanting to kiss those hard lips just inches away from hers. And her wish came true within those seconds as he, knowing deeply between them, as taciturn and invisible, their movements and expressions giving way to what the other needed.

Vossler's grip was hard, she could feel his hardened fingers digging into her soft skin, holding her hips to his and wanting her to feel every inch of his length. His hips ground into hers, grinding in such a way that it brought her to moan noisily against his lips. He chuckled, a deep satisfying rumble which brought her to deepen her blush, despite the situation.

Excited beyond all measure, he took her tongue into his mouth, taking it greedily and sucking it up like a candy he couldn't get enough of. She fought him back inch by inch, and it wasn't fighting _against him_, but a war between their bodies; a need that needed…no_ demanded_ something that they wouldn't be able to look at each other in morning with. And they couldn't care, or give a damn to all the hell-gods and hell wyrms of Ivalice, but for this _…..this_…..where they joined hands, gripping each other viciously like sailors holding on to their last drifting wood on the lonely open sea; they could drink the sweet taste of victory. For their own private glory.

Lady Ashe with her bittersweet lost love, and his for the love of Dalmasca, for his would-be Queen. _Yes, oh gods of Ivalice, yes _– he gritted passionately with a hard zeal, thrusting into her, and wrapping those fine supple legs around his waist. She was waiting for his longing and his greedy arms to enclose over her naked form. And in the morning, he silently hoped in the back of his mind - nay, _wished_ that she would not look at him with disgust for this affair. What came to her, as she kissed him back, taking his tongue, tasting hot, sweet and feeling the heavy drugged passion weighing them - would not be of regret later.

Vossler wasn't gentle in any way, and he didn't know how to be...yet, she showed him, guided him how to kiss her, how to touch her, holding her fragile hands over his. He groaned, "Oh gods, I love you..." he proclaimed against her lips, breathing heavily, and it seemed she took no heed of his professed heart.

Instead, she gently kissed him back, showing him how to touch her breasts without squeezing too roughly, and he in turn eagerly sucked her pale-pink nipples, making her gasp loudly. He liked to do more to her, but found that even in his supreme character; he couldn't find the reason to still his hands and mouth. As their mouths opened, playing and twisting their tongues with unrivaled delight, Ashe took the opportunity to splay her hands over his hard body, feeling the rough texture of skin and reveling on the hard planes, perfect lines and muscles. Vossler patiently paused, holding back his desire just so he could allow her to touch him in such a way which brought an agonized groan from him.

For all he cared, she could play ice queen in the break of dawn as long as she did not slap the heavy hand she held over him to usual rigidity. She would be his tonight, and with that, he almost whimpered with a kind of sadness. He hoped the slight hitch in his voice hadn't warned her of any weakness in his part. His Majesty does not abide weakness, and so he deeply knew so much of her, it ached as hard as the wound now healed. So deep would the princess cut him, as she kissed the hard line of jaw, causing him to suck his breath in, gripping her tightly against him that he found he would not be able to find solace later if war broke out between empires?

How long would he be able to protect her from the demands of political intrigue and ambitions of humes? Vossler with his calloused hands from the roughened battles was but a mere man in need of the caress of her Dalmascan's love. And though, he was not a romantic man, he could not but feel the rise of that devotion more than ever.

Never had he known that Princess Ashe, virginal bride and looking finely pristine amongst the fold of monarchs, wed to Lord Rasler, his equal, be _so hot it_ _burned him_. She was always so superiorly arctic, with her demands and her blue-blood exterior of upholding her class and what befits her station in life.

Ashelia was whimpering beneath him as he roughly took her, rubbing his hand over her softened skin, and diving down to suck up her lips into his. She was pushing back, taking and giving; he slammed into her again and again; noticing how she didn't mind his rough lovemaking. Vossler continued to thrust harder, pushing her back into the bed. His grunting heavy and hard; and, still, he held his arms steady so he could sink his greedy eyes to soak all of her. And though she shook from his violent thrusts, crying out with moans and incoherent whimpers; ironically, it was she who was making his former rigid exterior self into a drowning man.

Breathing hard, Ashe's half closed eyes looked into his, the soft hands and long lean fingers caressing his dark tendrils, and pushing it away from his forehead. "Oh yes….mmmm_…more..."_

And he so very much obliged.

* * *

**The Present: Awake from the Vengeance. **

_No one rejoices more in revenge than woman. _

_Lat., Vindicta Nemo magis gaudet quam foemina.  
-- Satires (XIII, 191) _

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_

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca eyes took on a bright light. She seized her long light dagger, replacing the long ranged weapons to avariciously stab the enemy with all her power, striking it with one last thrust, remembering the last look Vossler sent her.

The enemy before her disappeared with a wailing cry, a last aide memoire of its existence. She breathed heavily, and Ashe had fought, fought as hard as she could: Ashe was like that,_ always_ with all their battles.

She was irritated, just mildly so, with the reminder of Vossler, and that's when her eyes sparkled with a hard edge; the bitterness bringing a stony glaze of grey to her former blue-silvers. He wanted her to be queen, _yes,_ and he wanted her much more than that; but, _he knew_…he knew he could _never _have her _that way_. And she allowed him many liberties, and so she must be glad that he had taken those liberties to the grave. Ashe wasn't going to cry a river of tears over any man, not even Rasler sent her into sobbing fits.

Ashe was just not that type of woman. Even in the silent vigil of her husband's grave, his death bringing her a kind of tearful mourning that would not show tears. Perhaps, why, Vossler had referred to her in silent inquiry, between the secrecy of their intimate moments- the ice queen. It's funny; she scoffed to herself, because Rasler thought of her as sweet as any woman could ever be. And so, she should be: as the future Queen, and if she could find her way back to reclaiming her throne, she should act accordingly.

But she was no ice queen.

Her heart would always belong to Dalmasca. She would protect all of Dalmasca, like a covetous mother to her jeweled babes, joining hands of peace _or_ war, if ever that came to be. And Vossler was after all, he reminded her even for the last time: Dalmasca's son.

It angered her- how she had chosen to trust him with her life for two years, and he did what he did. If tears were going to fall, it would have been the day he died.

Ashe slammed the glinting dagger back into its small scabbard, lifting her elegant chin in a fashion that told her companion she was on her way to move to the next enemy. Balthier and Basch sent a side long glance at their Lady Ashe, but not without some curiosity; fearing a chastisement – when the harsh gleam of her blue-greys took on that kind of steely look, making them pause. The only one, who was foolhardy enough to ignore or be oblivious to her moods, was Vaan; albeit he was already _blind _to any woman's secrets and emotions. It was palpable when he had asked Fran's age. Not counting all the times when Lady Ashe had silenced him after he blabbered out, even during intense moments of heated debate between royals and high born soldiers.

Still, as much as Vaan or the others were, or how they acted; pirates of the skies, criminals of Dalmasca, or not, they were her faithful friends. Friends, followers, those loyal to the cause. Her cause. What's interesting is that her cause was _their _cause. It was the way it should be. Loyalty to the Princess Ashe meant everything.

Betrayers be damned.


End file.
